


You come blinking in the sun, I can tell that you're the one

by hotwheels_kin



Category: DCU
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mushy Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25512793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotwheels_kin/pseuds/hotwheels_kin
Summary: Or: Bruce and Clark Convince Everyone on Planet Earth That They’re Dating Before They Convince Themselves...
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 20
Kudos: 229





	1. They grew our daydreams in the heat of the sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brahe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brahe/gifts).



> Haha so I feel like I should have a disclaimer in here bc I kinda went back to my roots with the characterization... The seventies superman movie, the Tim Burton Batman, the Justice League animated show... This is the Batman of my childhood, the one who was too embarrassed to tell the other Leaguers that he accidentally got Diana turned into a pig by Circe and then sang a ballad so Circe would turn her back, the Bruce that blabbers about eating cereal while trying to tell Vicki Vale he's Batman... And this is the Clark of my childhood, a shy reporter just trying to blend in who really just wants to be a farmer and raise a son and a dog, the Clark that gets stuck in revolving doors when he's talking to Lois on his first day and makes bad puns... and they're both young and early in their journey as heroes, trying to find where Bruce ends and Batman begins? Anyways this is for my icon Sab, I hope you enjoy!  
> Fic title lyrics from A Simple Beautiful Truth by Wild Beasts and chapter title lyrics from First Light by Django Django! I low key have been hoarding lyrics about the sun and light for ya, Sab ;)

“Mr. Wayne, do you see your new solar panel roadways being integrated across the nation in the near future? Do you have any pending contracts with other cities?”

“Mr. Wayne, are you concerned about the cost of maintaining the solar panel roadways?”

“Mr. Wayne, are you seeing anyone?”

Bruce was in the middle of mumbling something about how the monetary cost of saving planet Earth didn’t matter when that last question caught him off guard. The press was always relentless, but ever since someone spotted him getting a casual lunch with Diana, they were all over his love life. The photos taken through a bush made the cover of _Gotham Gossip,_ and Bruce had vowed never again to be the subject of tabloids if he could help it. 

This whole thing was torture, and Bruce wasn’t sure why he still put up with it. Well, he knew why he put up with it. It was much more suspicious to be a hermit billionaire than a public one. And he had responsibilities with his parents’ business and fortune.

“Mr. Wayne, is it true that you plan to set up a scholarship at GU with the money saved from the new energy plan?”

“Yes…” Bruce responded robotically, then realized he recognized the voice. Amid the crowd of pushy reporters, Clark Kent smiled up at him. “I intend to invest in the future of Gotham by setting up a STEM scholarship at GU.”

Flashbulbs blinded Bruce for a moment, and he squeezed the edges of the podium, waiting for his vision to return. He let go of the podium after a second when pain shot up his arm like fire. He never wore any kind of sling or cast in public, and it was almost too easy to forget the shoulder he sprained the other night chasing Sportsmaster. 

His eyes finally adjusted again and focused on Clark. It was funny to see the other reporters clamor and shove each other, ignorant to the fact that if Clark pushed back, they’d all fall like bowling pins. Clark was looking down at the little notebook he scribbled in, double checking the chicken scratch only he could read. 

When Clark looked back up at him through those big, dorky glasses that somehow fooled everyone, Bruce forgot where he was. He was going to say something else or answer another question, but whatever it was fell right out of his brain, because Clark was here.

“Mr. Wayne.” Someone put a hand on his shoulder. The lead scientist on the solar panel project offered to take over for him.

“All further technological questions can be fielded by Dr. Sattler.” Bruce nodded and stepped off stage. The crowd collectively sighed defeatedly when he disappeared, and Bruce sighed of exhaustion.

Bruce decided that he’d keep some Advil handy at the next one of these press briefings. Either that or a glass of scotch. He had just begun to relax and enjoy the peace and quiet when a commotion outside the room caught his attention. One of his security guards was arguing with that same familiar voice.

“No press allowed beyond this point.” The guard stood taller than Clark, and Clark feigned looking intimidated. 

“Look, I know Mr. Wayne personally, and if I could just—”

“Anders, it’s alright. Let him in.” Bruce raised his eyebrows. The security guard nodded, allowing Clark through and shutting the door.

“Hi.” Clark smoothed out his gingham dress shirt, and Bruce shamelessly thought about the abs underneath it.

“Hi.” Bruce said back, waiting for Clark to explain himself. But after a second of almost painful silence, Bruce realized Clark wasn’t going to come out and say what he was doing here. “Are you here on Daily Planet business or…”

“Officially yes, the Daily Planet is quite interested in your new little project. But I… was also just wondering how you’re doing.” Clark shrugged and gestured at Bruce generally. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Fine.” Bruce replied, almost a little flattered. He never liked when other League members asked him how he was healing, since most of them were relatively indestructible. It annoyed him to be the fragile one. But also, he liked knowing that Clark cared. “Thanks for asking,” he added, hoping his original tone wasn’t too brisk. 

“Glad to hear.” Clark smiled. He didn’t even do it with teeth, but Bruce forced himself to look away, for fear his eyes would be glued to Clark’s smile for all of eternity. “Want to grab a bite to eat? I don’t have to be back in Metropolis until Monday, and I’ve got no clue which restaurants are any good around here.”

It would be so easy to make up some excuse, a banquet, a business call to a representative in another time zone, last minute loose ends on this solar energy project… It would be so easy for Bruce to go home and eat lunch alone and hate himself for it. “Sure.” Bruce gave in. “Let me just get changed into something… less Wayne Enterprises.”

Clark nodded, and Bruce shrugged off his suit jacket, then started working on the buttons of his dress shirt. He reached up for the top button with his right arm, again forgetting the sprain and wincing through his teeth. He tried getting it with just his left hand, but despite hours of martial arts training, his left hand just didn’t have the dexterity. Bruce snuck a glance at Clark, who had turned away from him and was studying some art on the walls a little too intensely. 

“Clark, could you, uh, help me with this?” Bruce pointed at the button. Clark whirled around at the sound of Bruce’s voice.

“Oh. Sure.” Clark crossed the room hastily, then slowed as he reached up to unfasten the button. Bruce found himself watching Clark’s curls fall into his eyes as he squinted and pulled at the button. Even though his hands were big and built for picking up cars, they undid the buttons on Bruce’s shirt gently and slowly. “There,” He spoke as he finished the last one.

“Thank you.” Bruce pulled the shirt off, and Clark took a step back and turned back to the painting on the wall. 

Bruce usually bought a change of plain clothes to these kinds of things so he could sneak out a back entrance. He threw on some worn jeans, a plain T-shirt, and a gray bomber jacket, topping off the disguise with a black baseball cap. It took a pair of glasses to change Superman into Clark Kent and a baseball cap to turn Bruce Wayne into nobody.

“Ready to go?” Bruce asked.

“Oh, yes.” Clark turned back around and followed Bruce out the back of the building. Bruce mused for a second. If Clark could see through his clothes anyway, could see through his skin even, then why turn around while he was changing?

“What are you in the mood for?” Bruce looked up at the street signs, figuring what was in walking distance.

“Anything.”

“Italian? Thai? Colombian?” 

“Whatever you want.”

“I want you to stop being so agreeable and have an opinion.” Bruce elbowed him jokingly. “I know you put up a little bit of an act at the Daily Planet, but you’re in Gotham with me, and I know who you really are.”

Clark took a visible deep breath. He looked nervous, but Bruce couldn’t fathom why. It wasn’t like the Man of Steel sat at his desk at the Daily Planet spacing out thinking about little old Bruce Wayne. Not the way Bruce found himself distracted doing almost anything nowadays. Just the other morning he paused in the midst of brushing his teeth to wonder if Clark styled his hair like that or if that one little curl just chose to fall onto his forehead of its own volition. 

It was a stupid feeling that Bruce wished would just go away. But at the same time, he couldn’t get enough. 

“Thai sounds great.” Clark smiled at him, and the emotion was infectious. A grin gripped Bruce’s face and made him wonder if the Joker had put something in the water again.

“Thai it is.” Bruce pivoted on his heels and led Clark down a one way street with elevated train tracks overhead. The street was lined with restaurants of all kinds, boasting colorful neon signs and tantalizing smells. 

They stopped near the next corner, in front of a tiny blue storefront nestled in between two larger restaurants. Bruce leaned over to check the menu, and a waitress inside recognized him and waved. He waved back, and she went to clear plates from a booth near the window.

“It’s kind of a dive, but the food and the people are great.” Bruce turned back to Clark just as a train rumbled above them. Clark tried to say something, but the train drowned him out. Bruce held the door open for him, and they went inside.

“I was trying to say it looks wonderful.” Clark spoke up as soon as the door was closed and they could hear themselves think again.

“You’ve brought a friend today, Bruce.” The waitress commented, squinting her eyes at Clark and looking him up and down. “I’ll get another place setting for your booth.” She disappeared into the kitchen, and Bruce led Clark to his usual seat.

“Come here often?” Clark joked as he slid into the booth opposite. 

Bruce chuckled. “This place beats a catered socialite event any day of the week.”

Clark picked up the menu and leafed through it as the waitress returned to the table with an extra set of silverware wrapped neatly in a napkin. Clark thanked her, unwrapping the silverware and spreading the napkin over his lap carefully. 

“Bruce. Bruce?” The waitress had to say his name twice to pull his attention away from Clark. “What will you have today?”

“Hmm. How about the Emerald Curry today?” Bruce replied, dragging his eyes away from Clark just long enough to smile at her.

“And for you, sir?” 

“Umm…” Clark stuttered and flipped through the menu again, clearly overwhelmed. “I’ll have the same.” Clark gave up, handing her the menu. 

Bruce waited for her to leave before he asked Clark if he even knew what was in the Emerald Curry. Clark just laughed, and Bruce buried his face in his hands. It was fun to make Clark laugh, but he also felt like Icarus, flying too close to the sun, his wings threatening to melt if Clark laughed too much. 

“Hey, you know, I think it’s really neat of you to set up that scholarship. I never got the chance to continue my education, and it’s great that you’re giving someone that opportunity.” Clark remarked, thinking back to the press conference.

“Thank you for asking about that. The negativity towards the project was stifling in there. It was nice to talk about something... else.” Bruce fiddled with his napkin. He realized he knew very little about Clark’s life, but his own life was practically public property. “Where did you grow up again?”

“Kansas. Middle of nowhere. Come to think of it, Smallville is kind of the antithesis of Gotham. We had exactly two diners in town.” Clark chuckled a little as he thought about his home.

“Was it boring for someone like you?” Bruce asked.

“Well, there’s never really a dull moment when you’re trying to hide the fact that you can bench a car from your kindergarten classmates.” Clark shifted in his seat and looked down at his hands.

“How was gym class?”

“Miserable.” Clark laughed again, and Bruce begged himself to stop making jokes before he passed out on the table. 

Just then, something caught Bruce’s eye out the window. A tall, redheaded woman locked eyes with him, a smirk on her face, and then her face registered. 

“Shit,” Bruce whispered, pulling his hat downward and sinking into his seat. But it was too late. Vicki Vale was already throwing open the doors to the restaurant and striding over to their table.

“What?” Clark turned around, following Bruce’s gaze. “Who is she?”

“Press. And… an ex. Who suspects Bruce Wayne could be Batman.” Bruce grabbed a menu and held it up over his face, to no avail.


	2. You can take your place up in the sky, I will find a way to get it on down here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title lyrics from You and I by Caribou

“Brucey, long time no see.” Vicki approached the table, pushing the menu down with a polished finger. 

“Vicki Vale. What a coincidence. You know what? We should catch up later. I’ll call you.” Bruce faked a toothless smile.

“No you won’t.” Vicki quipped. “I hoped we could chat now. I’d love to hear all about your new project. But first… Who is this?” She turned to Clark, looking him up and down.

Clark opened his mouth, about to introduce himself, but Bruce shot him a pleading look. Anything said to Vicki would be twisted into front page news. Bruce knew that the hard way. She was the one who shot the photos of him and Diana.

“I’m… a friend.” Clark turned to her, impressed with his reply. Bruce cringed. He had forgotten that the Man of Steel never lied. And the way he said it was about to set Vicki on them like a pack of wolves.

“A _friend?_ Wow, okay.” She grinned and immediately pulled out her cellphone. 

“Vicki—” Bruce begged.

“Hey Knox, you’ll never guess who I just ran into. Wayne, of course! He’s in a Thai Restaurant on State Street with a devastatingly handsome man who calls himself Bruce’s _friend._ I don’t have my camera on me, so you’ll want to send about ten photographers to my location. Thanks, bud.” She hung up just as quickly as she made the call. 

Bruce was just relieved to hear that she didn’t have a camera on her. He made eye contact with Clark, then flicked his eyes towards the kitchen door. Clark nodded. 

“Well Vicki, it’s been fun.” Bruce stood and shook her hand firmly. Then he and Clark made a dash for the kitchen.

“Wait!” Vicki called after them. But they were through the doors before she started after them. 

Inside the kitchen, Clark almost ran smack into the waitress, who was holding a platter with their two Emerald Curries on it. “Leaving so soon, Bruce?” she laughed, like this was not the first time Bruce had to make a quick exit from the restaurant. 

“Sorry, business to attend to.” Bruce handed her a wad of cash and slipped out the back door, Clark in tow. They found themselves in a narrow alley. “Alfred, I’d love an inconspicuous extraction on the two hundred block of Madison Street right about now.” Bruce whispered into his wrist watch communicator. 

“Right away,” Alfred replied. 

“Come on.” Bruce motioned to Clark and started down the alley, peaking around the corner. Vicki was standing in front of the restaurant, on the phone, already flanked by a couple more photographers. One of them spotted him and pointed. Bruce whipped his head around and hid from sight, ending up inches from Clark and scaring himself half to death. 

“You know, I could extract us both right now,” Clark offered.

“I know you could, but it wouldn’t be inconspicuous, would it?” Bruce raised an eyebrow.

“I can be really fast.” Clark insisted, offering his hand to Bruce. 

Bruce could think of a million subtle ways for them to make their escape right now. They could scale a building, climb down into the sewers, hide in any of thousands of department stores and restaurants on the next street over. Yet the thought of flying out of here with Clark was kind of tantalizing. Bruce gave in and reached out to take Clark’s hand.

Flashbulbs suddenly cracked from behind Bruce, lighting up Clark’s surprised face. Clark quickly grabbed Bruce’s hand and pulled him down the alley, taking a right hand turn. They found themselves in a dead end.

“Now or never.” Clark turned to Bruce, and Bruce nodded. 

They flew straight up at first, the wind blasting Bruce in the face and almost stealing his hat, but he caught it. As they arched over the city, Bruce’s stomach did flips. It wasn’t the first time flying for him, but usually it was in one of John’s green bubbles, not holding hands with Clark. They slalomed between skyscrapers and burst through clouds, condensation collecting on Bruce’s clothes and face. 

Looking over at Clark, he could see the pure joy in his face. Clark closed his eyes for a moment, just enjoying the sun and the rush of the cool air. Bruce couldn’t imagine what it must’ve been like for Clark to hide this integral part of himself his whole childhood. He was still hiding it half the time. It seemed like a lonely kind of life.

But though Bruce was just a human with no powers to speak of, he could relate. There was so much of his life he hid. Sure, he had Alfred, but he grew up putting on a brave face for his peers, pretending like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t witnessed the cold-blooded murder of his parents. And now, of course, he hid Batman.

Clark interrupted Bruce’s thoughts by smiling at him, and with the sun behind him making him glow and the wind tousling his hair, Bruce felt like he really was melting, turning into liquid bit by bit until he slid out of Clark’s hand and fell to the streets of Gotham below like rain.

“You know, I was really looking forward to trying that curry.” Clark spoke up.

“We’ll order some takeout another time.” Bruce assured him as they descended towards Wayne Manor. 

* * * * *

Bruce hated the tabloids. He couldn’t understand why people loved them so much. Did they really run out of movies to watch and books to read, so they had to consume the lives of others? It was ridiculous to him. However, the cover of this week’s _Gotham Gossip_ made him laugh out loud. 

“Bruce’s Mystery Man…” Bruce read the headline again. For a minute, he understood the tabloid craze, looking at the candid photo of him and Clark dashing down an alley, Clark grabbing his hand and pulling him practically off his feet. The scandal of it all managed to amuse Bruce. If only they knew this was a candid photo of Batman, and that his Mystery Man was none other than Superman. The tabloid fanatics would eat that up more than they already were!

The article inside analyzed every pixel of the image, dedicating much time to the unusual way the two were holding hands. It was an awkward angle, and both their left hands together wouldn’t suggest they had been walking side by side. _Was this a lefty handshake, then something more?_ The article surmised. Bruce suddenly wondered the same thing. Why did Clark take his left hand?

And then it dawned on him. In all the chaos, Clark still remembered Bruce’s sprained right shoulder. _He really is amazing,_ Bruce thought to himself. Yes, of course he was amazing; he was Superman. But not every person blessed with flight and x-ray vision and super strength was also kind the way Clark was, gentle the way Clark was, warm the way Clark was…

Bruce kept reading the article, wondering if this fluff piece really could make him like Clark any more than he already did. _Did our photographer interrupt an alleyway tryst, a kiss, perhaps—_

“Any fun plans this week, Bruce?” Bruce tossed the tabloid right off the balcony as Clark stepped out into the sunlight, putting on a light jacket and just missing the sight of the tabloid falling to the garden below. Bruce hadn’t had the guts, but Alfred offered for Clark to stay at the manor while he was in town. It wasn’t that Bruce forgot that Clark was staying here. More like, he was completely unprepared to see him bathed in the early morning sun with his glasses off.

“Something planned...” Bruce mumbled, still recovering from the article. He clicked his watch and it displayed his schedule for the week. “I don’t have anything until the solar panel project launch on Friday.”

“The industrious Bruce Wayne, free for four days?” Clark feigned surprise.

“You know exactly what I do with Bruce Wayne’s free time.” Bruce nodded towards the false bookcase inside that Clark knew was a secret entrance to the Bat Cave. 

“You know, Smallville’s hosting the county fair this week, and now that I’ve spent some time in Gotham, I could use a good county fair. You interested?” Clark put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels as he looked out at the glow of Gotham in the distance, then back up at Bruce.

“Are you seriously asking me that?” Bruce could’ve fallen off the balcony and landed in a heap on top of the tabloid. 

“What, too country bumpkin for Bruce Wayne?” Clark teased.

“No I… just wouldn’t expect you to invite me to something like that. I feel like I’d stick out like a sore thumb.” Bruce looked down at the dress shirt he was wearing in the comfort of his own home. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Cows, vegetables, and apple pie… What’s not to like? And no one out there knows who Bruce Wayne even is. No reporter ex girlfriends chasing us with cameras.” Clark made a good point. Bruce hadn’t left Gotham for something unrelated to business or Batman in ages. It could be nice. He could just hear Alfred telling him to go, saying something about the clean Kansas air and the impact of time off on mental health.

“I suppose it’ll be more fun than sitting around Wayne Manor by myself.” Bruce admitted. “I’ll come, if you insist.”

“Swell! Now, you can’t come and brood and skulk the whole time. You’re required by local ordinance to have fun at the Smallville County Fair.” Clark almost sounded like he was threatening him.

“Oh darn, brooding was exactly what I had planned to do.”

“Just promise me you’ll lighten up a bit. You can be such a Debbie Downer sometimes.” Clark rolled his eyes at Bruce. 

“Sure, Polly Positive.” Bruce retorted halfheartedly. Clark just shook his head and left the balcony. Bruce was about to follow him off the balcony when Alfred appeared, looking slightly amused.

“Master Bruce, I believe you dropped this.” Alfred handed him the tabloid, which was wrinkled from its fall, but still intact. 

Bruce almost told Alfred to throw out the tabloid, but then he looked at the cover picture again and thanked Alfred instead. He took the tabloid with him to his room and slid it into an empty drawer. 

As he sat alone in his room, Bruce couldn’t help but think about how different he and Clark were. Clark was the optimist, the all-American boy, the goody two shoes. Bruce was the pessimist, the spoiled rich kid, the tormented vigilante. Superman got his power from the sun, and Batman was born in darkness.


	3. All the colors of wonder your brightness can be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title lyrics from The Warning by Hot Chip

The fair somehow managed to be exactly the way Bruce would’ve pictured it. There were people in cowboy hats and cowboy boots hopping off their ATVs to look at other people’s livestock, children leading goats and horses around, and women carrying steaming pastries. Bruce was thankful Clark had told him what to wear. Even at his most casual, the bomber jacket and tighter jeans that Bruce wore to blend in with Gotham would’ve looked a bit out of place here, so he went with a worn, loose pair of jeans and a plain T.

Clark was glowing, waving to little kids, helping his old neighbor unload some pigs from a trailer, and explaining all the hustle and bustle to Bruce, but it was a little too much for Bruce to take in at once. Clark lost him trying to explain the Husband Calling Contest. They were just about to check out the pie competition tent when Clark froze up for a moment. 

“Clark!” A young woman with red hair pulled back by a pastel pink bandana waved. 

“Lana!” Clark strode over to where she was standing and petting a paint horse on the nose. “How have you been?”

“Good! How’s life in the big city been treating you?” She asked. Bruce followed Clark over, curious.

“It’s alright. I love the pace of it, but I miss this place sometimes.” Clark gave the horse a pat on the neck. Bruce was suddenly distracted by the concept of Clark riding a horse. Bruce learned how to ride English as a kid, as a rich Gotham socialite child does, but it was all about control and he never got past trotting speed. It would be nice to hop back in the saddle and just go for a trail ride in the rolling hills of Kansas with Clark…

“Clark Kent, I’ll be damned. I’m surprised to see you back here.” A man with a handlebar mustache and the build of a football player emerged from behind the stable and slid an arm around Lana’s waist. He had moved a wad of dip around in his mouth so he could speak, and when he was finished, he spat on the grass, a little too close to Clark’s foot for Bruce’s liking. Bruce already knew exactly who this guy was. He was the kind who started bar fights and probably peaked in high school.

“Brad Cranston.” Clark’s posture stiffened. “Long time no see.” 

“Are you here to muck the stable? Ol’ Lucky left a nice steamy one a few stalls over.” Brad motioned behind him with a thumb, and Lana looked down at her feet.

Clark balled his fists. “I see you haven’t changed since high school, Brad.”

“I reckon you haven’t changed either.” Brad spat again, releasing his foul breath into the air. “Who’s this fella?” Brad nodded towards Bruce.

“Bruce Wayne.” Bruce stepped forward until he was shoulder to shoulder with Clark and offered his hand to Brad, who looked at it and didn’t take it.

“You one of those Oskaloosa Waynes?” Brad eyed him.

“No, the Gotham Waynes.” Bruce maintained an intense, bristling eye contact, but Brad didn’t waver.

“Okay, big city boys, Lana and I have some preparation to do before we race in the Couples Relay. Isn’t that right, darlin’?” He pulled her closer to him, and she finally pulled her eyes away from her feet.

“Um, right. Bye, Clark. Nice to meet you, Bruce.” Before she could finish speaking, Brad was practically dragging her away.

“Well, he was charming.” Bruce scoffed and turned to Clark, who had been remarkably quiet. Clark’s fists were still clenched, and there was a raw pain in his eyes that Bruce had never seen before. “Hey, are you okay?” Bruce asked, letting his hand brush against Clark’s fist. 

Clark’s hands and shoulders slowly began to relax, and he took a big sigh. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Who was that jackass?” Bruce didn’t know there were people in the world that got to Clark like that. As much as he liked to think of Clark as this beam of light and smiles, he was still very, very human.

“Just a high school bully.” Clark gritted his teeth. Then his face suddenly lit up again. “Bruce, what if we entered the Couples Relay and beat them?”

“If this is anything like the Husband Calling Contest, count me out.” Bruce laughed.

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s more like potato sack races and running with an egg on a spoon.” Clark described it like it was that much more glorious than competing at screaming a man’s name.

“Wouldn’t we have to be… In a couple to compete in the Couples Relay?” Bruce raised an eyebrow. 

“No one would have to know.” Clark had an almost devious smirk on his face, a smile that only pulled at the corners of his mouth, but still gave him dimples.

“Clark Kent, I wouldn’t have taken you for the petty type.” 

“It’s not pettiness. I think it would do Brad some good to be knocked down a peg. I don’t think he’d see a therapist if I asked nicely.”

They leaned over to peer behind the stable, where Brad was sitting in his truck bed with Lana, throwing a crumpled beer can at a squirrel who had stopped to nibble at discarded popcorn. The squirrel darted away, and Brad laughed. Then he proceeded to stick his tongue down Lana’s throat. That was plenty for Bruce to want to play creative shrink for this narcissist. 

And maybe it would be kind of nice to pretend that he was dating Clark. Not that he’d ever imagined what that was like or anything. Regardless, Bruce loved fighting alongside Clark. This wasn’t a life or death battle, but it was still a battle nonetheless. And Bruce had to admit they both had big competitive streaks.

“Fine, let’s kick his ass.” Bruce cracked his knuckles. “So how does this relay work?”

* * * * *

Bruce did not feel regret until he was handcuffed to Clark and watched the host throw the key into a haystack on the far side of an obstacle course. And that was only the first half of the race. Clark was poised at the starting line like a sprinter, and Bruce was just standing there, half bent over to accommodate the handcuffs, looking at the large crowd gathered along the course. Brad and Lana were in the lane next to them, Lana with her hair tied up and Brad with lines of eye black to relive his high school football days. 

“You ready, darlin’?” Brad smiled at Lana, but his eyes were on Bruce and Clark. “I think we got this in the bag. My high school mile time was a whole minute faster than Clark’s.” Clark made eye contact, but didn’t give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of him.

“Hey, Man of Steel, you’re not planning to blow your cover over this, are you?” Bruce asked Clark, dropping into a sprinter’s stance so he didn’t look as out of place. “My shoulder is much better than it was a couple days ago, but I think if you ran at your full speed I might lose my whole arm.”

“Don’t worry, darlin’, we got this in the bag, without super strength.” Clark mocked Brad’s voice, a little louder than Bruce was expecting. “I survived eighteen years in this town without anyone suspecting a thing.”

“Alright, sweetums. You better use your X-Ray vision on that hay stack though.” Bruce nodded towards the enormous mound of hay. 

“Already on it.” Clark smiled a full smile at Bruce, and Bruce suddenly realized how absolutely insane this thing was. 

Here he was, handcuffed to Superman, who he was probably in love with, and they were about to crawl around in the mud for a silly contest. He had told the host that he and Clark had been dating for a year and that they met at a coffee shop in Metropolis. Clark was a terrible liar, so Bruce did most of the talking. Bruce thought he knew who Batman was, and who Bruce Wayne was, but the person walking around in his body right now almost needed to be locked up in Arkham.

The sound of a gunshot rang out, and the Couples Relay began. Clark effectively dragged Bruce off the starting line until Bruce figured he needed to step with his right foot when Clark stepped with his left so their arms could swing together. The first obstacle was army crawling under some logs in the mud. Clark was laser focused and Bruce barely kept up as they bumped knees and elbows the whole way. Bruce and Clark left the crawling section neck and neck with Brad and Lana, Brad’s eye black all smeared from the mud.

“Clark, I hate you right now.” Bruce muttered as they approached the next obstacle. Two parallel balance beams snaked through long grass, just far enough apart that the handcuffs yanked them towards each other and off the beams. 

“Shh. Just hold my hands.” Clark grabbed Bruce’s hands and mud squelched from between their fingers. They leaned on each other across the divide, sidestepping down the beams. Bruce almost fell when the beams turned, but he leaned forward and ended up forehead to forehead with Clark. A few seconds ago, he said he hated Clark, but he sure didn’t mean it, and now he was practically laughing out loud as they used their foreheads to steady each other. 

The final obstacle before the haystack was a rope swing across a shallow pit dug into the ground and filled with mud. “Now this is more up my alley.” Bruce took the rope in his hand, thinking about how to adjust his normal technique to accommodate being handcuffed to Clark.

“This is a race, Bruce, dear.” Clark smiled and gave him and the rope a bear hug, launching them across the divide. The air left Bruce’s lungs as Clark slammed into him, and he was glad for it, because he probably would’ve yelped. They landed in a heap on the other side, not quite letting go at the exact same time, rolling into some more mud. “Come on!” Clark practically picked Bruce up and set him on his feet, and they were off for the haystack. 

Clark’s eyes were trained on one particular spot and he dove head first into the pile, pulling Bruce along with him. The hay stuck to the mud on his face and got into his mouth, but it was his own fault for laughing. He tossed handfuls of hay aside, trying to look helpful as Clark dug where the key actually was. 

“Got it!” Clark held up the key, making the crowd and Brad gasp.

“Maybe a little too quickly, dear.” Bruce hissed, looking at the steam coming out of Brad’s ears. 

Clark was too busy getting the handcuffs off. “Are you any good at bobbing for apples?” He asked. 

“Haven’t done it since I was a kid.” Bruce looked at him, confused. Clark didn’t have a chance to explain the second half of the race to him.

“Well honey, I hope you can play bozo buckets with your mouth then.” Clark finally popped the handcuffs off.

“What—”

“No time to explain!” Clark took Bruce’s hand and they were off running towards the second half of the race. “Go wait at that flag.” Clark pointed, letting go of Bruce’s hand. “I’ll bob for the apples, and you take them in your mouth and throw them into that bucket.” Clark knelt down next to an apple bobbing bucket and dunked his face in. 

By this point, Brad and Lana had found their key and were on their way over to start the apple shenanigans. Clark jumped to his feet with an apple in his mouth and sprinted towards Bruce.

“I have to take it with my mouth?” Bruce scrunched up his nose, but Clark gave him a look. Bruce sighed and leaned over. “I don’t remember signing up for _The Bachelor.”_ But he begrudgingly took the apple in his teeth, brushing noses with Clark as he tried to get a good grip. 

Bruce discovered he did in fact sign up for _The Bachelor,_ but it had happened months ago when he first exchanged secret identities with Clark, when they first hung out as normal people. Bruce could remember the exact moment. They had grabbed coffee together the morning after an exhausting night of dealing with Copperhead, Cheetah, and some other elusive super criminals that managed to escape prison like clockwork. Clark was wearing his glasses that day, and they refracted the light of the early morning sun and lit up his bright blue eyes. He had laughed about the irony of having to cover Copperhead’s escape for The Daily Planet, and Bruce felt like a rug was pulled out from under him. There was no going back.

Since their first team up, Bruce knew he would die for Superman. He didn’t think he would crawl around in the mud and jump into a haystack and throw apples with his mouth for him then. He always thought Superman was the guy who had everything a man could want. But now Bruce knew he’d do pretty much anything for Clark, and it didn’t matter if Clark wanted him or not. He would always be there, even though he was just a regular human man in a bat costume, and Clark was… well, Superman.

“Come on, Bruce, we need to get three apples in the bucket before Brad does.” Clark shouted, and Bruce mumbled something grumpy and unintelligible through the apple. He turned to the bucket, a measured six feet away from him. It didn’t look too hard. He had thrown bat-arangs with his teeth before. But his teeth had sunk into the flesh of the apple and were caught when he tried to let go, sending the apple far wide.

“Damn.” Bruce watched the apple roll away in the mud, and was suddenly able to laugh at himself. But Clark was back with another apple, and it was time to focus and not get distracted by how close their faces were when they did an apple handoff.

This time, Bruce took the apple gently in his teeth, trying not to pierce the skin, and threw it with perfect accuracy, landing it square in the middle of the bucket.

“Yeah!” Clark cheered, and Brad whipped his head around from his flag, seething. Lana had yet to get an apple out of the bobbing bucket.

“Clark, babe, focus.” Bruce sighed. Clark had been harassing him earlier about taking his sweet time, but now Clark was the one forgetting this was a race.

“Right, sorry!” Clark splashed around in the bobbing bucket again and snatched up an apple at lightning speed, just as Lana plucked out her first apple. 

They sprinted next to each other towards the flags, Clark quickly passing her up. Bruce leaned over to take the apple, and Clark smashed his nose into Bruce’s, not bothering to slow his sprint.

“Ow.” Bruce was able to make that simple sound as he took the apple and lofted it into the bucket, now using his muscle memory for the perfect throw. Brad made his apple in on the first try, and suddenly fear built up in Bruce’s throat. He really, really wanted to win this.

Clark got his apple before Lana could, and did his best to not knock Bruce over when they met to transfer. Bruce turned to the bucket, tuning out the noise of the crowd and lining it up.

“Miss!” Brad yelled as Bruce whipped his neck, but it was no use. The apple plopped right in, and Clark started whooping like a teenager. He ran over and swept Bruce off his feet in a hug, swirling him around and banishing all coherent thoughts from his brain.

Bruce always felt annoyed or pained when he was falling in love with someone. With Vicki, he was always worried about her putting two and two together, about some super villain using her against him and hurting her, about being too emotionally repressed and consumed by childhood trauma to even be capable of love. But falling in love with Clark was turning out to be some strange, half terrifying, half exhilarating adventure. Maybe he was able to squash his feelings for Vicki and all the others because they all paled in comparison to the way he felt about this silly alien with laser vision currently swinging him around in his arms.


	4. All alone with me and we're waiting for the sunlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title lyrics from Sara Smile by Hall & Oates

The host of the Couples Relay was a man with a massive cowboy hat and beady eyes, holding a microphone, but his voice was quite hard to understand due to his lack of teeth. His wife was a quaint woman with a bob and a full mouth of teeth, so she took it upon herself to interview the top three couples from the relay.

Brad was pouting next to Lana on the second place platform, refusing to make eye contact with her. She was glaring at him, like she finally had her fill of him. Bruce sure hoped she’d dump his ass right after the fair.

“So, Clark and Bruce, tell us about yourselves!” She held the microphone out to Bruce. “You said you met at a coffee shop?"

“Well, we were coworkers of sorts, and we ended up at the same coffee shop on our break. So we started talking, and… well…” Bruce embellished the story of the first time he and Clark hung out as themselves.

“Aww, isn’t that sweet!” The woman turned to the audience, and people sighed with her.

Clark leaned into the mike, and Bruce tensed up, hoping he wouldn’t make a mess of things with his inability to lie. “Bruce is a man of few words, but he’s the most loyal, brave, and determined person I’ve ever met.” After making that statement, Clark leaned back and put his arm around Bruce’s shoulders. The crowd went aww again, and a blush crept up Bruce’s cheeks. He made eye contact with Clark and there was something so sincere, so genuine, so warm in Clark’s eyes, that for a moment, Bruce almost believed they were dating. Bruce let himself believe.

“Clark is… um, like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day.” Bruce could barely get the words out of his throat. The crowd clapped, and the sound faded to a dull buzz as Bruce let himself get a little lost in Clark’s eyes.

The race host broke the trance by handing the two a gaudy gold trophy. Bruce took one pillar and Clark took the other, and they raised it above their heads to the cheering of the crowd.

* * * * *

Bruce could barely remember what Brad said on the platform or how they got back to the car, but suddenly he found himself sitting silently next to Clark, staring at the glowing yellow E next to the speedometer. Bruce felt like he was running on E emotionally at this point. What the hell just happened? He glanced at the trophy they put in the back seat to make sure it was real.

“Uh, Bruce? If we need gas, the only station in Smallville is just down the road.” Clark offered. Bruce couldn’t believe he was able to act normal after that whole thing. 

“Gas, yeah. We need some.” Bruce pulled out of the grass field that served as the county fair parking lot and turned where Clark directed. They arrived at the station, and an attendant came out to pump gas for them. The car was oppressively quiet and hot from being in the sun all day, so they both got out and stood outside the convenience store. They were quite the sight, mud caked and dried on their shoes and clothes, hay sticking out of their hair, Clark’s shirt collar soaked from apple bobbing. 

Bruce had been spacing out at the newspaper racks when a familiar photo caught his eye. He gasped quickly and turned towards Clark, blocking his view of the _Gotham Gossip_ stand. 

“What?” Clark squinted at him, reading him like an open book.

“Nothing.” Bruce crossed his arms and looked off into the distance, watching the sun set over the cornfields. 

“Bruce, you always say I’m the bad liar, but you’re not much better. You think you’re all mysterious with your emotions but—” Clark put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder and moved him aside, rolling his eyes. But then he noticed the cover. “Is that… Is that us?” He picked up the magazine and looked closely at the blurry close up of the side of his face.

“Yeah. Thanks to Vicki, Gotham thinks I have a mysterious boyfriend.” Bruce glanced down at the picture again, thinking about his own copy in his desk at the manor. He could visualize the way the corner was folded from him throwing it off the balcony, and looking at an unblemished version was like reliving the first time he saw the photo all over again.

“And now, thanks to Brad, Smallville thinks I have a mysterious boyfriend.” Clark laughed. “This article is going to be terrible isn’t it? Tabloids always make everything ridiculous.”

Bruce turned back to look out at the orange sun dipping below the horizon. He was right all along. How egotistical of him to think Superman himself would… would…

“Bruce, are you alright?” Clark had put the tabloid back on the pile and directed his whole attention on Bruce.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Bruce blinked slowly, willing himself to give up, to squash it.

“Sure.” Clark laid the sarcasm on thick, then put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder.

“Don’t… do that.” Bruce pulled away from his touch, walking away from the paper stands and around the back of the gas station. 

Bruce…” Clark followed him, and as he rounded the corner, the sun refracted in his glasses just the way it did in that coffee shop what felt like ages ago. “Bruce, I…” He stuttered, returning to the nervous, unassuming Clark Kent that worked for The Daily Planet. “Those things I said after the Couples Relay… I meant them. You know I can’t lie, and I’m not lying when I say I care about you. A lot.” Clark looked down at the ground, reaching up and running his fingers through his hair. “But you can’t bottle everything up. I know it’s your shtick to be the morose hero, but I want you to let me in.”

Bruce was never much good with words. Well, Mr. Bruce Wayne, Director of Wayne Enterprises was good with words. But just Bruce, and of course Batman, were both terrible with words. So Bruce gave up trying to formulate any. He leaned ever so slowly towards Clark with his eyes closed and gently kissed him, just barely brushing his lips against Clark’s. 

When Bruce flicked open his eyes again, Clark looked like he was about to cry. Bruce felt sick to his stomach for a moment, until Clark laughed, aglow with the golden sunlight, unconsciously floating off the ground just a few inches. Clark reached up and delicately placed a hand on the side of Bruce’s face, and suddenly they were both hovering a foot off the ground, spinning slowly, kissing, bathed in September sunlight.

“Bruce, I didn’t know if you…” Clark whispered when they finally pulled apart to breathe.

“Well, I do.” Bruce smiled and wrapped his arms around Bruce’s waist, something he’d selfishly dreamed of for ages. Then he looked down. “Um, Clark? We’re above the gas station.”

“Oh, sorry.” Clark gently lowered them back down to Earth, but Bruce felt like his heart was still floating somewhere in the sky, somewhere in space, orbiting the bright star that was Clark Kent.


End file.
